Framano drabbles
by SayaLeigh
Summary: A collection of my Framano oneshots from tumblr. Some aren't exactly drabbles, but I do try to keep them short. Includes date swaps, watching the sunrise, and that kind of sappy thing.
1. Sunrise

**A/N:** This one's a tumblr request! I may have gotten a little carried away, but I love these two.

* * *

 _"Sunrise"_

Warm hands and gentle touches woke Lovino, running lightly over his skin and making him shiver until he pried his eyes open, blinking sleepily up at his lover. The blond smiled down at him, somehow apologetic and welcoming at the same time. As much as he disliked being woken, the Italian couldn't be angry when the other man looked at him like that.

"Francis? What the hell do you want?" he grumbled softly, taking in the small Parisian apartment with a single sweep of his gaze. The sky outside was beginning to lighten, casting enough light to navigate the room, but the sun hadn't even risen yet. Lovino was used to the Frenchman letting him sleep until noon unless they had a meeting.

"You promised you would watch the sunrise with me this morning," Francis reminded him, tucking a few blond curls behind his ear.

Lovino stared up at him for a moment, but he remembered that promise now. Sighing, he slipped his hand into Francis' and let him pull him up. The silken sheet slipped from his waist, but he grabbed it and tugged it free from the bed to wrap around himself. Francis frowned, but didn't protest as he led the way to the small balcony. Both men were barefoot, and their feet made soft, whispery noises as the crossed the carpet.

"You can go back to bed when it's over," Francis promised, pressing a small kiss to the top of the brunet's head as Lovino leaned against him. The Italian made a small, noncommittal sound, nuzzling into his lover's warmth.

The pale disc of light rose slowly over the Parisian rooftops, still draped in wisps of cloud. Traces of pink bled into the sky, tracing the edges of every cloud and building. A couple birds, probably pigeons or sparrows, swooped through the air and disappeared after a moment. Slowly, the sky lightened to a rich blue, and the sounds of the city waking below began to reach them.

Lovino's weight against his side seemed greater than before, and now that the spectacle was over, Francis looked down at him curiously. Nudging him gently, he asked in a soft voice, "Have you fallen asleep again, mon cher?"

Lovino groaned softly and shook his head, lifting a hand to rub his eyes. He looked almost childish with his tousled hair and slightly pouted lips, and Francis couldn't help but smile. He leaned down, kissing those full lips lightly just as the edge of the light reached them, illuminating their hair with gold and auburn halos.

Smiling slightly, Lovino intertwined his fingers with the Frenchman's and tugged him gently back to bed. They fell onto the mattress together, the blankets immediately pressing around them as if to call them back to sleep. Lovino wriggled upward a little until he could kiss Francis again, tangling his fingers into the blond locks.

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" the Frenchman asked softly, smiling against his lips once they'd separated. Lovino just shook his head and settled down again, closing his eyes.

"Francis?" he asked after a moment, his voice already slightly slurred by sleep.

"Hm?"

"Je t'aime."


	2. Night Changes Everything

_"Night Changes Everything"_  
 **RATED M**

 **[TEXT]** I'm coming over.

That was all the warning Romano got before there was a knock on his door. He hesitated a moment before answering—it had been a while since France had been to his place, and they weren't exactly the type to hang out like old friends. That, and given the lack of warning, his place looked like…well, his place.

Seeing a grinning France hold up a bottle of wine, however, he couldn't bring himself to regret his decision. Sighing dramatically, he took a step back to admit the Frenchman.

"I thought that would work," France told him with a grin.

"Shut up and get in here," Romano grumbled, rolling his eyes. He wondered if he was seeing things or if France's eyes had really just trailed up and down his body.

"So, I heard there were Christmas specials on just about every channel tonight," the Frenchman commented, his blue eyes sparkling, "Shall we watch, or is that too childish for you?"

Romano wasn't sure if he was being mocked or not. Still, the words had that effect, and the Italian bristled irritably.

"Of course it's not 'too childish!'" he snapped, stomping into the living room and turning on the TV, "I'm not some fucking Scrooge, you know."

France's only response was a light chuckle as he followed Romano. At some point he'd produced a pair of elegant glasses, and Romano wondered if he'd really brought them all the way from France. It wasn't like he didn't have his own, so…no, those were his. How did France know where he kept them?

Quickly deciding that the questions were too much trouble to even ask, the grumpy Italian slumped onto his couch and stared blankly at the screen as he waited for France to pour the wine for them.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" the Frenchman asked, raising a brow as he took a seat next to the brunet and handed over one of the glasses.

"Does it look like it?" Romano snapped in return, trying not to feel too miserable about the bleak emptiness of his holiday schedule.

France bit back a sigh, though it was still obvious enough to make Romano's hackles rise. He didn't need the blond's pity or anything, dammit!

Before he could answer, France's soft comment cut him off. "I'm glad. If you were busy, I would have to wait to see you, non?"

Romano stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. It took several long minutes to process the comment, but then he snorted, trying to ignore the flush of his own cheeks.

"What do you want, anyway? No way you'd willingly put yourself in my company."

The tiny grin in France's voice was obvious in France's voice when he replied, leaning close enough that his sweet breath brushed tantalizingly over the shell of Romano's ear.

"Ah, but I would, mon ami. Don't you know how lovely your company is?"

Romano could feel the familiar, bright red flush spread over his face and neck, and he shrank down as he took another sip of wine. The clear glass didn't do much to hide his expression, but it was something.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he scowled once he'd regained some semblance of control. France just chuckled softly, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down Romano's spine, and leaned back again.

"If you say so, mon chaton," France replied in a singsong tone. Lovino decided not to ask about the nickname tacked onto the end—knowing the blond, he was sure he wouldn't like it.

They fell silent again, watching the movie. Romano hadn't had any real interest when they turned it on, but as the movie played, he found himself being drawn in by the story. They moved on to their second glasses of wine, Romano's temper mellowing with the flow of alcohol. It wasn't that he particularly disliked France, whose company was infinitely better when he kept his mouth shut, but more that the Italian was never sure when something embarrassing would happen. France wouldn't tease him if it was something really bad, but even his kind words had a way of getting under Romano's skin that no one else's did.

"I had another reason for coming here tonight," France admitted softly, his eyes still on the screen as the couple in the cheesy TV movie kissed.

Romano scoffed, his lip curling again. He still didn't turn to the other man, hoping to hide as much disappointment as he could when he spoke.

"Of course you did. What is it, a date with Veneziano? I'm not setting you up."

"Non, of course not," France replied quickly, even going so far as to roll his eyes, "I'd much prefer to date you. While your brother is cute, I do not think I could love him the way I already love you."

Romano froze, sure he couldn't possibly be hearing this right. His eyes were wide, locked blankly on the screen despite all his attention being fixed on the man next to him. More cautious now—Romano didn't think he'd ever heard him so hesitant-the Frenchman continued.

"Perhaps we could go to that Christmas party next week? Or if you're more comfortable being physical than emotional, I could take you to bed tonight…"

Romano stared at the blond, stunned by his offer. Those blue, blue eyes were fixed on him in return, bright and earnest and yearning. Romano's breath caught in his throat.

"I'm going to need more alcohol for that," Romano commented finally, half-joking and hiding his face behind the wine glass. Rather than making France chuckle and lightening the mood, his comment made the blond frown.

"I couldn't do that, Romano," the Frenchman replied seriously, reaching out and taking the Italian's hand gently, "I wouldn't sleep with you unless it was of your own free will and you were fully conscious, mon cher."

Romano swallowed hard, silenced again. He could see his hand trembling in France's grip, but he didn't pull it away.

"Why?" he asked finally, his voice soft and slightly raspy. His glanced up at the blond man again, his wide eyes betraying his nervousness and fear that he was being played. France smiled reassuringly, running his thumb lightly over the back of Romano's darker hand.

"You're beautiful, Romano," France murmured, "You always have been, even with your foul mouth and your insecurities. I want to make you see how beautiful you are and how much you can be loved."

Romano's cheeks flushed and he dropped his gaze, avoiding that strange, adoring look France had fixed him with. He closed his fingers over France's, downing the rest of his drink.

"I…I want to," he replied seriously, swallowing hard, "I just…I don't…You must have a lot of options, right? So…"

France laughed, gently tugging Romano's arm to draw him closer. Romano went, though he couldn't even justify it to himself. France settled the Italian on his lap, wrapping one arm around his waist and brushing the other's soft brunet hair back with his other hand.

"Romano…How many times do I have to say it?" he asked softly.

His lips were so close…His breath was warm and sweet, making Romano's head spin the way it might if he'd had a lot more of that wine. The Italian gave in to his desire, leaning in and pressing a hesitant kiss to the Frenchman's lips.

France returned it eagerly, pulling Romano closer. The brunet shifted in his lap, pressing France against the back of the sofa as his confidence grew. He could feel the blond smirk against his lips, but before he could pull back, France held his head in place gently.

Romano wasn't paying attention to his other hand, at least until he slid his palm up the Italian's stomach. His hands were cooler than the brunet's warm skin, making Romano gasp and squirm slightly. He pulled away, turning his head slightly in an attempt to hide his expression and the bright red blush crawling up his neck.

"France…" he murmured, his tone going slightly whiny when the Frenchman chuckled.

"Make that sound again," France breathed against his neck, kissing the soft skin there. The Italian whined softly, his head falling back to expose more. The Frenchman was in awe of the darker-skinned man's reactions, and he let his finger's trail up to brush Romano's nipples lightly to see what that would earn him.

A tiny, breathy moan, apparently.

"Y-you're enjoying this," Romano accused, barely managing a weak glare as he looked down at France.

"Aren't you?" the blond countered, his smile devious but his eyes honest. Romano didn't have a comeback for that; instead, he leaned down to kiss France again.

The Frenchman set about unbuttoning the Italian's shirt slowly, his focus more on their lips and intertwined tongues than his invading hands. Romano let him continue, carding his fingers lightly through the soft blond locks. Their actions were unhurried, as if both nations reveled in being so close to the other. For a moment, France dared to hope that Romano might feel the same way that he himself did.

"W-wait," Romano panted, pulling away suddenly and making France freeze, afraid he'd pushed his boundaries too far, "Let's…let's move to the bedroom." His cheeks were flushed with more than arousal, but France's only reply was a smile and a small nod. Romano let his shoulders relax, grateful for the lack of fuss.

Taking France by the hand, he led the way to his bedroom. Linking their fingers like this seemed…right. Natural, even. With his free hand, France began to undo the buttons of his own shirt, leaving both men with their chests exposed as they fell into bed in a tangle of limbs and renewed kisses.

This time it was France who pulled back, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the line of Romano's jaw and the curve of his neck as he made his way down instead. Romano felt as if he were floating, his body warm and light, his mind freed from the usual cares. He knew his limits, and he was nowhere near drunk, but he might as well be for the way France made him feel. The Frenchman seemed to guess this effect, grinning against the Mediterranean nation's skin.

Romano gasped softly, his back arching into the warm lips brushing over his nipple. He knew France had experience, but he'd never expected him to be so gentle and attentive to every touch that sent shivers down the Italian's spine. He could feel a low rumble of pleased laughter as France kissed his way back up over Lovino's chest and neck.

"Spread your legs, mon cher," France murmured in his ear, a hint of laughter in his voice. Lovino shivered and hesitated for a moment, but then complied. France's slender fingers trailed up his thigh, dragging a low whine from Romano's lips. He dragged his fingertips lightly over the growing bulge in Romano's slacks, earning himself a gasp and a little buck.

His fingers trembling, Romano slipped his arms around France's neck and tangled on hand in his blond locks. The Frenchman moaned softly, his lips finding Romano's neck again. The Italian hummed encouragingly, shifting to press his knee between the blond's legs. France groaned, rutting against the pressure, and Romano gasped out a pleased, breathless laugh.

France wrapped him up in another consuming kiss in response, though their smiles made it sloppier than most would expect from either of them. Suddenly, Romano wanted France's hands everywhere, drawing every little gasp or whine from him. He pushed at the blond's shirt, managing to get the message across that he wanted the Frenchman naked. Grinning, France complied, breaking the kiss to admire Romano's flushed, panting form as he stripped.

"Lube?" he asked, his hands finding Romano's belt instead of his skin as he returned to his lover. Without a verbal response, Romano twisted to fish it out of a drawer beside the bed as France stripped him. He grabbed a condom too, knowing he wouldn't want to do too much cleanup after this. He was pleasantly buzzed and full of adrenaline, but when it wore off, he wouldn't want to move for a week.

Together, they stripped Romano's slacks and boxers, and the Italian quickly shrugged the shirt from his arms as well. France's eyes traveled hungrily over his exposed body, making him blush and squirm nervously.

"Beautiful," the blond repeated finally, his voice soft as he leaned in to kiss Romano again. The brunet whined against his lips, but his arms came up to embrace him instinctively.

France pried the lube from Romano's fingers, popping the cap to spread it over his own instead. One finger traced Romano's entrance lightly, drawing a pleading whine from the Italian's lips as he tried to push against it. France chuckled softly, finally kissing him again as he pressed his finger through the ring of muscle. Romano groaned against his lips; it had been a while since his last encounter.

France's touch was gentle, practically stroking his walls as his mouth distracted Romano from the discomfort. The second finger was almost as easy as the first, but the third drew a whimper of discomfort from the Italian. France shushed him softly, pecking his lips as his free hand pumped the brunet's aching length.

"A-ahh…" Romano gasped softly, breaking the kiss to turn his flushed face into the pillows. The Frenchman's blue eyes lit up at the reaction, and he carefully stroked that spot again. This time Romano whined, squirming and curling his toes.

"Mon Dieu, you are so cute," France breathed, sounding almost awed by the older Italian's responses.

"J-just…hurry the fuck up," Romano panted, peeking an eye open to glare at him. It wasn't much of a glare, really. If anything, France would have called it a heated look shot through his lashes.

"As you wish, mon ange," he replied lightly, though arousal made his tone lower than usual. Romano swallowed hard, wrapping his legs loosely around France's waist as the blond spread the lube on his own arousal. It wasn't too thick, which Romano was grateful for, but it was longer than the Italian had expected.

The Frenchman's clear, piercing blue eyes found Romano's hazel as he guided himself in, one hand on the Italian's hip while the other held his length steady. Romano groaned low in his throat, breaking eye contact as he let his head fall back against the pillows. His fingers tightened in the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but he could handle this discomfort.

"Merda…" he breathed out when France finally stopped. One shaking hand came up to wrap around the back of the blond's neck, pulling him down into another kiss to take his mind off the uncomfortable stretch. France wrapped him up in both arms as he returned the kiss, and when he broke it, it was only to press numerous kisses across Romano's neck and chest instead.

"Je suis désolé," he murmured against the flushed skin, his own voice thick and breathless, "Désolé, mon loup."

Lovino scoffed breathlessly at the apologies, rocking his hips against France's.

"Sposta." _Move_.

The blond curls bounced as France nodded quickly, pressing one last kiss to the Italian's lips. Sparks exploded through Romano as he began moving, quickly earning the Italian's moans and pants again. All Romano knew was the heat, the movement, and the comforting weight of the Frenchman as they moved together, completely intertwined. France was as affectionate in making love as he was when speaking, and Romano's moans were often cut off by sweet, needy kisses.

All the same, Romano wasn't sure he'd ever been in bed with someone as vocal as himself. France moaned and murmured pet names, his glazed, half-lidded eyes watching Romano's every reaction and learning what made him cry out. Romano swore loudly, especially when France tweaked a sensitive nipple or brushed his prostate.

"Nngh-ah! Close!" Romano whined between particularly expressive expletives, his back arching. France's eyes darted to his face, a hint of what might have been a smile on his lips. He pulled Romano close, the sweet nothings whispered in his ear completely at odds with the now-erratic thrusts.

A wordless cry left Romano's lips as he came, painting their stomachs with sticky white threads. France groaned against Romano's neck as the Italian clenched around him, pushing him over the edge mere moments later.

They collapsed side-by-side, chests heaving. France's arm slithered over Romano's stomach, settling there like a stone weight. The brunet didn't protest, but when he'd recovered enough to move again, he rolled over to curl up to France's side.

"You're washing the sheets in the morning," he informed the blond. France's only response was a chuckle that shook both of them, but then he fell silent again.

Wrapped in warmth and companionship, Romano began to let himself drift off. Whatever he'd said in the past, he could get used to the soft, sweet murmurs in his ear in a language that just escaped his understanding.

Romano woke in a cocoon of blankets and warmth to feel fingers running lightly through his hair. He groaned softly to let the other know he was awake, but otherwise simply pressed a little closer to…who was it again?

He shifted a little to peek out of the blankets, his heartbeat stuttering at the sight of silky blond hair bright blue eyes. France's smile widened as he saw Romano look up at him, and the Frenchman leaned in to press a soft kiss to the Italian's forehead.

"Bon matin, mon cher," he greeted softly, his other hand gently squeezing Romano's under the covers, "Do you have a hangover?"

Romano went quiet for a moment, mentally assessing the state he was in. "No, just a headache," he replied finally, "I…and you?"

He was hesitant to ask about someone else's state, but he didn't want to just brush France off like he had always done. Something about the night before had changed something between them, and he wanted it to stay that way. The Frenchman's expression lit up at the question, and again, Romano wondered if the blond knew him better than he knew himself.

"I'm fine," France assured him, "You drank more than I did."

Romano groaned at the reminder and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. The Frenchman's signature chuckle, softer this time, came from somewhere near his ear.

"Come on. It's almost noon," France murmured, "I'll make breakfast, we'll go out for a late lunch, and you can make dinner."

Romano mulled that over. That sounded…like the perfect way to spend the day. He rolled over to see France's face again, nodding in agreement. He watched with something like awe as the Frenchman's expression softened, and when France leaned down to kiss him, he didn't hesitate to return it.

"Get up when you're ready, ma biche," he told him, pushing himself up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Romano made a grab for his wrist.

"Did you just call me a girl?" he asked, raising a brow.

France looked back at him, surprised for a moment, before he laughed. "Non. The adjective has to agree with the noun, not your gender," he explained, turning his hand to squeeze Romano's gently, "I would suggest you get used to it, mon amour."

"Are you going to keep calling me pet names?" Romano asked next, still frowning slightly.

France just laughed, gently twisting his wrist out of the Italian's hold and grabbing boxers on his way to the kitchen. Romano wasn't sure if he should be thankful or disappointed.


	3. Afterglow

**A/N:** I personally love insecure, needy Romano with France trying to reassure him that he's perfect as he is

* * *

 _"Afterglow"_

Lovino sat on the edge of the bed, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His body was completely exposed, light and shadow dancing across his flawed olive skin. Behind him, the blond Frenchman lay on his back, his blue eyes tracing the Italian's scars and his lower half covered by the rumpled blankets.

"You know, I never thought I would see an Italian in my bed," Francis commented suddenly, a smile evident in his tone.

Lovino glanced over is shoulder, his expression far from the amusement of the other man's. "I'm sure if you had fantasized about it, you would have chosen the other, no?" he replied finally, his tone scathing in a way that suggested the disgust was directed at himself.

"Of course not," Francis answered softly, finally sitting up, "In the beginning, it was equal…but eventually I realized that you needed me. And what I want, more than anything else, is to be needed."

Lovino scoffed, but he turned away so Francis wouldn't see the surprise in his eyes.

"I don't need you," he retorted defensively, taking another drag.

"Oh, but you do, mon petit Italien," the blond replied softly, wrapping his arms around his lover from behind, his lips brushing lightly over his shoulder, "You do, Lovino…You hate yourself, and I love you…"


	4. Take It From the Cats

**Notes:  
** Lucio=neko!Romano  
Luz=neko!Spain

* * *

 _"Take It From the Cats"_

Lovino frowned as he watched the fluffy white cat approach his own, wondering how Lucio would react. He recognized the newcomer; he belonged to his annoying French neighbor. If he was here, the blond couldn't be far behind.

To his surprise, Lucio began grooming the white furball when he was close enough. He didn't even act like that with Luz, who he saw much more often.

"Ah, I thought they might like each other," a familiar, strongly accented voice suddenly spoke from behind Lovino. The Italian definitely did not jump at that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, turning and raising a brow at the smiling blond.

Francis shrugged, that small smile playing across his lips. "I think they reflect our feelings," he said softly, his voice taking on that mellow tone that he rarely used with others, the one that made Lovino blush and go a little weak at the knees.

Lovino snorted, crossing his arms and turning away so Francis couldn't see his blush. "Yeah, right," he retorted dismissively, "There's no way in hell I'd be so…cuddly. Not with you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Frenchman's face fall. Inexplicably, guilt fell like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. God, since when had he gotten so soft?

"Lovino…" Francis murmured softly, stepping closer and wrapping his arms tentatively around him. When the Italian stiffened but didn't pull away, he rested his head lightly on his shoulder. "Please. I just want a chance with you…"

Lovino hesitated, glancing over at the soft blond hair that fell over his shoulder. He tried to relax a bit, glancing away again. Finally, he mumbled, "It's not going to be easy…"

Francis looked up at that, his blue eyes wide with shock and shining with hope. "Does that mean…?"

He didn't finish the question, a wide grin spreading over his face. Lovino blushed heavily, but before he could turn away again, Francis' fingers were resting lightly on his jaw and turning his face towards him. Just before their lips brushed, Lovino panicked and pushed him away.

"T-take it slow, bastard!" he squeaked, feeling his cheeks burn. Francis chuckled lowly in his ear and pressed his lips to Lovino's cheek instead. His stubble brushed lightly against his jaw, a more pleasant sensation than he would have expected.

"I can wait for you to want me…" he assured the Italian softly, his voice warm and happy.


	5. Switching Dates, pt 1

**A/N:** This was supposed to be just a quick little thing, but then it turned into a 3-part thing.  
Insp. by requests from kazoo-goddess and taffyart

* * *

 _"Switching Dates" (1/3)_

Lovino's eyes narrowed as he spotted Francis, but he wasn't quite willing to admit to himself yet that Antonio had set him up. He looked around for the Spaniard, but he was nowhere to be found, and there was no way Lovino could escape now that Francis had spotted him. The blond waved energetically, his blue eyes sparkling as he caught sight of the Italian. Lovino hesitated for a moment, but he was already here, so he might as well see what the Frenchman wanted.

"What the hell are you doing here, bastard?" he asked bluntly, planting both hands on his hips as he finally stopped in front of his…honestly, he wasn't sure what to call their relationship. They weren't rivals or enemies, and despite how he acted, he didn't even really hate Francis.

"You haven't caught on yet?" Francis asked, only half-teasingly, as he reached out and took Romano's hand. The Italian gaped for a moment, surprised by his forwardness. The idiotic Frenchman knew he didn't like to be touched by most people, right? He jerked his hand back, his cheeks flaring with color. Honestly, he wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

"Our dear Antonio may have set you up, mon cher," the blond explained, a soft smile on his lips, "Ah, but I suppose it's my fault. I wanted so barely to go on a date with you…"

It took Lovino a moment to process that. France, the country of love, didn't really want to spend time with the grumpy southern half of Italy, did he?

Francis smiled knowingly, but he didn't comment on the brunet's subtle distress. Instead, he decided to take a chance on continuing with his original plan. He gestured for Lovino to follow him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by trying to hold hands again.

"We still have reservations, mon petit Romano. You like free food, don't you?"

Lovino scowled, but trailed along a few steps behind him. "Don't fucking say it like that…" he grumbled, glancing away moodily, "It makes it sound…J-just don't, okay?" Francis frowned slightly in confusion, not sure why such a simple comment seemed to set Lovino on edge. Even Switzerland wasn't bothered by a comment like that. Instead, he simply nodded and sqmiled at the Italian. "Of course."

Lovino slowly began to relax as they walked. As long as Francis wasn't speaking to him, he figured it wasn't so bad. He'd hardly spent two minute's in the blond's presence in years, but outside of meetings, of course, but surprisingly, he found himself curious as to what was on the blond's mind.

"You really wanted to go on a date with me?" he asked shyly, looking away stubbornly as Francis turned to him, his expression surprised.

"Of course," he replied softly, a small smile spreading over his face.

Lovino blushed and hesitated a moment, then stepped forward and slipped his hand into the other man's larger hand.

"Then…I'm going to make sure it's a good date…" he mumbled shyly, his expression determined.

Francis smiled brightly. It was a start, and maybe by the end of the night, he'd even get to kiss the moody brunet.


	6. Switching Dates, pt 2

**A/N:** This is the SpaCan half. Not really much Framano, but I figured I'd include it so no one has to look around to read the rest.

* * *

 _"Switching Dates" (2/3)_

"Hey!" a cheerful voice greeted from behind Matthew, making him spin around. He looked around for a moment; surely the man coupldn't be talking to him, right? But he was looking right at the Canadian, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around who spared him so much as a passing glance.

"Um, hi?" he replied finally, turning his attention to the brunet. He recognized him as his father figure's friend, the personification of Spain, but he'd been expecting to meet Francis today. His eyes widened as he jumped to the worst possible conclusion, and he took a step forward to look earnestly into the Spaniard's face.

"Is Francis alright?" he asked, a little breathless with worry, "Did he send you to tell me something happened to him?"

Antonio blinked in surprise at the reaction, but burst out laughing after a minute. "Wow, you're a lot different than Lovi….Francis must have raised you well," he commented, reaching out to ruffle Matthew's hair.

The Canadian blinked in surprise at that, but it was strangely effective at calming him down. Antonio didn't seem too worried, so that meant the Frenchman was okay, right?

"W-wait, then why are you here?" he asked curiously, peering at the brunet with interest. He'd never noticed before—not that he had a lot of opportunities to do so—but he was a bit taller than the Spaniard.

"Actually, Francis was giving me a hand with something," he explained cheerfully, completely unaware of the observations Matthew was going through, "See, he wanted to go on a date with Lovi, and I wanted to go on a date with you! So we did a…ah, what do you call it? A 'bait and switch?'"

Matthew wasn't sure whether to blush or laugh, though in the end, Antonio's bright, hopeful gaze just made him smile and melt. He took Antonio's hand, which he hadn't realized had been offered until just that moment.

"I'm sure Romano's enjoying that," he teased finally. His voice was soft, as usual, but Antonio seemed to catch every word, and another bright smile spread quickly across his face.

"Si, I'm sure he is," Antonio laughed, though his tone suggested he didn't believe it for a second, "So, what kind of food do you like? I can't wait to learn more about you!"

By that point, Matthew was definitely blushing, but more than that, he was looking forward to this break from his normal routines. His own lavender eyes shining with excitement, he began pointing out a few places he liked, he and the Spaniard alternately dragging each other around.


	7. Unspoken Apology

**A/N:** Lovino's kind of a dick in this, but it's sort of supposed to be the beginning of them getting along.

* * *

 _"Unspoken Apology"_

The bed Lovino found himself in was warm, soft, and exuded some sort of soft, floral scent. It was also unfamiliar.

He sat up slowly and looked around, wondering where he was. He'd been in more than a few bedrooms in his time, but never this one. He slid slowly from the sheets, realizing his was only in his boxers and his clothes from the night before were scattered next to the bed. There wasn't anything unusual about that, except that he couldn't remember undressing. Blushing furiously, he pulled everything back on before venturing out of the room.

He'd never been in this house before, but he heart sank as he began to recognize a few of the items. There was a painting on one wall that he remembered giving to France as a gift when Paris and Rome had become sister cities. A soft blanket that the same blond sometimes brought to meetings when he was feeling under the weather was draped over the couch. Even the smells drifting from the kitchen were distinctly French.

His heart sinking, Lovino followed his nose to see the blond standing at the stove, his back to the doorway. Cool, wintery light drifted through the window, catching on the steam rising from whatever the Frenchman was doing.

"Everyone knows you want an Italian in your bed, but the lengths you resorted to surprise even me," Lovino finally spoke, his voice scornful. Francis jumped and spun to face him, hurt crossing his expression for a moment.

"I think you have the wrong idea, mon ami," Francis replied evenly a smile quickly replacing the momentarily weak expression, "You got drunk after your brother left, and someone had to take care of you. Since you hadn't made reservations, I took it upon myself to bring you back here."

"To your bed?" Lovino replied scathingly, raising a brow, "Even going so far as to undress me…I'm not sure how you saw that as being helpful."

Francis frowned again, his expression confused this time. "You are mistaken, Romano. I only took off your shoes. If anything else was taken off, you must have done it yourself in your sleep," he replied, but now he was beginning to look a little irked by Lovino's continued hostility, "I put you in my bed because I had already offered the guest room to Alfred and mon petit Mathieu. I spent the night on the couch."

He turned away again, obviously thinking that would be the end of things. It was, for a while—Lovino was too surprised by his last revelation to comment for a moment.

"Why didn't you leave me on the couch?" he asked finally, crossing the room to peer into the blond's face, "I'm…I'm shorter than you, anyway." As much as he hated bringing his height into things, he figured it was a point that had to make sense, right?

Francis looked affronted by the very thought.

"What kind of host would I be then?" he asked.

Again, Lovino paused. Obviously, he'd misjudged the Frenchman. Years of avoiding him had obviously caused him to make more of his perversion than there really was. He dropped his gaze, playing with a hem on his sleeve as he tried to formulate an apology. Before he could get the words out, Francis noticed, and his irritation softened. He reached out and caught Lovino's hand, stopping him from doing any more damage to his shirt.

"I understand," he assured him, "You were upset last night. If you went to bed angry, you might have woken up angry too."

Lovino hesitated, but then simply nodded. There was more to it, of course, but he didn't need to unload his problems on Francis after being so rude to him.

"Thank you," he said instead, "I…guess I should go…"

Francis waved the words away, a smile crossing his lips. "No, you don't have to," he assured him, "Besides, I've cooked too much for one person. It's never any good reheated. Why don't you stay and eat with me?"

Lovino hesitated a moment longer, searching his face for sincerity. He seemed to mean it though, so Lovino relaxed and nodded. He had a feeling it was time to smooth things out between them anyway.

"Si, okay. Should I set the table?"


End file.
